Tackled
by Emerald-Water
Summary: Did you ever think about how it feels to be tackled by a Winchester? Maybe like this? At least kinda? Sam/Dean vs. a mean spirit, you know the drill...
1. Chapter 1

**Tackled**

So, you ever think about how it feels to be tackled by a Winchester?  
Maybe it's like this? Kinda, at least?

Hope my beta found all my mistakes. If not, please tell me.  
Enjoy, and I don't own nothing… only, maybe the idea of this story…

Lee

* * *

She didn't know what had woken her in the first place. She just knew something was not right. Then she could hear the slight noise again, as if someone had stumbled. A little creak let her know that she was right, and someone was in the house, moving up the stairs. She felt her heart starting to race as fear gripped her. Someone has broken into the house!

The house, actually was the Dermonts's house. She was working there as Au-pair, going to College and earning some money after studies, by watching their two children and helping with the household, things like that.

Yesterday had been the day that lead to her being alone at the house. Little Billy had been raced to hospital, after he had fallen down the stairs. She had been petrified, as it was her duty to watch the children. She didn't know how all of this could have happened. Billy was six and one second he was in the room with her and his little sister, and the next second she could hear a bloodcurdling scream, followed by the bumping noise of a body falling.

She had stayed the afternoon in the ER, together with Billy's distraught parents and his crying little sister Maddie. Mr. Dermont told her to drive home, that they would talk about "other things" later. He himself would bring Maddie to her grandparents. She would stay there for the next couple of days, while he and his wife Victoria stood at the hospitals ER, and later on at the PICU, watching their son fighting for his life.

The creak of the door to her room opening let her hold her breath and close her eyes tightly. She could see a flashlight through her closed lids and a small gasp escaping the intruders lips.

"Shit!" she could hear him whisper. "I think we might have a problem here. I thought you said no one was at home." Another flashlight scanned the room.

"Well there is supposed to be…" the sentence was left unfinished and she felt suddenly something very odd. It seemed the room turned gradually colder, while something started to bleep loudly. At the same time the air in the room felt as if charged with some strange sort of energy.

She opened her eyes in time to see something moving at her from the other side of the room.

Before it reached her, something heavy and compact landed on top of her sweeping the air from her lungs, and let her scream end as a small yelp. A hand covered her mouth, as the body of one of the intruders pinned her down. At the same time a shot rang out, letting her flinch and scream against the hand on her mouth. Panic sweeping through her, letting her ears ring and extinguished every other sound, except her own heart beat and the blood rushing through her head. The weight on top of her shifted a little, so that she was allowed to breath in deeper through her nose, and letting the panic of suffocating disappear a little. She could hear muffled voices and it took her some time that the one on top of her, holding her down was talking in a somewhat reassuring manner. She could hear his voice through the haze: "Breath with me. Come on. Calm down, breath with me…" She tried to follow his orders. "That's it. You're doing great. In… and out." He continued.

"Did you get the bitch?" he asked to the second man behind him, without looking up. "Yeah… no sign from her either – at the moment, at least. Would you just get her out for gods sake?" The words were more exasperated than an order.

The man on top of her looked at her: "You okay now? You not gonna scream if I remove my hand? We have to be quiet, okay?" She nodded slightly, still too afraid of what had happened. "Okay then." He said, removing the hand on her mouth slowly.

She felt it a second before it actually happened. Behind them a gasp could be heard, then the weight of the man was gone and she could hear a crunch as he connected with a loud thud at the wall on the other side of the room.

She wanted to get up, but suddenly all muscles in her body seemed to freeze, as she looked into the pupils that glowered down at her.

The eyes stopped everything in her. Her heart, her breathing, her blood, her hearing, only these eyes and her. The world faded and she knew that with the world, she faded, too. She would die. Those eyes seemed pleasured at her understanding. "Weaknesss... must be punished..." a dead voice echoed through her.  
Then another blast flew past her and the pressure around her lifted. With it came pain and panic.

She felt being lifted as her conciousnes slipped away and darkness took her.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

Now let's get into this story for real!! THX for the review sammygirl1963 ;).

* * *

Dean felt the hair on his neck rise, and before he could cry out a warning, he saw his brother flew across the room, hitting the wall hard and getting down with a little "wush" leaving his lips, as all the air left his lungs.

Dean didn't have time to help, as he saw the spirit of the poltergeist manifest above the bed of the girl. He knew he couldn't get her out of the line of fire, but knew he had to get rid of the bitch before worse could happen.

He heard it hiss something unintelligible, aimed and shot. The ghost dissipated with a screech and Dean put the gun into the waistband of his jeans, covered the four steps between the door and the bed. He saw the girl trying to stay alert, hoping, he hadn't hurt her with the rock salt, bent down and gently got his hands under the girls body, leaving her wrapped up in the blanket, he lifted her easily. He saw her eyes roll back and muttered softly:"Let's get you outta here."

Meanwhile Sam had gotten his feet under him and was standing, breathing heavily.

He saw his brother carrying the girl towards the door. "You okay?" Dean asked slightly panting. "Yeah, just sore. She okay?" he nodded towards the girl in Dean's arms. His brother shrugged: "Will be. If we get her outta here." Sam nodded. "Let's do this!" He grabbed at his gun hidden by the waistband of his jeans and his jacket, flicking off the safety in one fluid motion.

_She could see the men leave with the girl, but knew they would never leave the house. She would hinder them to . And then she would separate them and they would be punished all for their weakness.  
_

A cold cackle let Sam and Dean freeze to their spot. They were at the living room now, not any longer at the second floor. Sam scanned the room but couldn't see anything. He held up his hand, telling his brother to stay there and left the room, swiftly but cautiously striding down the hall. As he arrived at the front-door, he already knew their predicament. "Lock down!" He simply stated, frustration evident in his voice. Silently and fast he moved away from the door and back into the living-room.

It took Dean one glance at Sam and he knew, there wasn't good news to come.

"You know Dean. I hate it when things get that out of control."

He waited, as Dean bent down and let the girl rest on the sofa, pulling his own gun again.

"Yeah, pretty much the same over here, Sammy." He himself scanned the room, stopping short on the huge open fireplace on the far wall. He moved over there scrutinizing it intently.

That's when everything seemed to come alive.

Suddenly books and pictures, vases and furniture started to move, trying to hit them, to confuse them. The door opened and closed again, and wind started to blow through the house. They could hear by the crashes that followed that it was not only happening in the living-room.

Dean tried to see through the movement and make out his brother. He could see Sam back away from the things thrown at him, moving ever so slightly toward the living-room door and dread filled him suddenly.

He raised his voice over the noise: "Stay in the room, Sammy! It's trying to separate us! Get to the girl!" he screamed, hoping his brother could hear him. Then something hard hit him from behind, letting him topple over. He fell on hands and knees, his gun knocked from him with force, as something attached itself on his back. He writhed in utter agony, as icy cold fingers wrapped around his torso, pressing the air out of his lungs. He fell to his side, still not able to breath, gasping for the much needed air, and heard a voice cold and glass-like: _"Weaknesss….. must be punished….."_ The face of the ghost appearing right in front of him.

His hand groping around, finally getting hold of the iron fire-poker, not losing any more time he used every ounce of strength left and brought down the poker in the face of the ghost. It dissipated with a deafening scream, leaving him on the floor gulping in air. The silence that followed the second attack was intense. Then Sam was on him, about him, talking to him, but it needed some time until his hearing came back, the rushing of his blood abated enough for him to hear the constant ramble of his brother. "I'm okay!" he heard himself say with a hoarse voice, letting him cringe.

"How's the girl?" he asked. "She's awake. And scared… got a few scratches, but she's okay."

Dean pushed himself up and swatted away Sam's helping hand, earning a glare.

"Look at that." Dean said, pointing with his index finger at the frame of the open fireplace. Sam took a step closer, looking at the symbols carved into it. If you didn't know what you were looking for, you wouldn't see it, but Sam and Dean could see the Runes embedded through the pattern. "Wow!" Sam whispered, while tracing it with his fingers.

"You think that's it?" he asked Dean, already knowing the answer.

"Yep. I think that's exactly the place…" Dean nodded.

"Where do you think it's hidden?" Sam asked concentrated on the fireplace. "This is going to be no fun…" Dean sighed. "Let's get to work, before the bitch shows up again. He went back to the sofa to retrieve their tools of choice.

The girl still laid there, eyes dazedly looking at him. He crouched down at the duffel, getting the sledgehammer and the crowbar. Stopping short he turned to her, smiling gently.

"Hey, this is over pretty soon. Can you do a job for me?" He knew he needed to busy her.

After some time had passed, she nodded. "You watch our backs?" Again she nodded and he offered her his hand, helping her to stand. "Come on, over there. I think it's better if we stay together." He said, leading the way over to the fireplace.

"What are you gonna do?" she asked, finding her voice again.

"Well… we need to get some sort of souvenir, the spirit left here." Sam explained, looking at her. "You… gonna… break the place?" she asked, looking shocked at the tools in Dean's hands.

Dean grinned cheekily. "We love working out!" His smile vanished as he instantly turned serious again.

"Listen, more time to chat later, okay? We need to get rid of her before she starts getting really mad at us."

"Speaking of…" Sam said, raising his head as the lights started to flicker.

"Move your ass, will ya?" Dean's voice was worried but determined, as he gave the crowbar to his brother, raising the sledgehammer and slammed it hard against the frame of the fireplace.

A scream sounded through the house, letting the walls shake and the windows rattle.

The sledgehammer came down again and the scream turned into something feral. The lights once flickered and then went out completely.

"Sam!" This time Dean's voice was an order, and only a second passed before Sam's flashlight came on, illuminating the room in harsh light and dark shadows. Dean didn't stop his work and went on to smash the frame into little pieces.

With his next blow a big piece of frame went down revealing what they had looked for.

"Phew!" Dean panted, grinning pleased with himself. The grin fading as something dark rushed out of the hole he had created. The screaming spirit enclosing him into an embrace, letting the world around him fade, leaving him again suffocating, but he knew that this would give Sam the time he needed to finish burning the bone. The one thing, binding the spirit of Olivia Sullivan to the here and now.

He went down hard, struggling against the bitch who again let the blood in his veins freeze.

Through a curtain of dark mist he could see Sam starting to move towards him, but, he shook his head and yelled: "Do it! Damn! Sam. Burn the stupid bone!"

He felt himself going under, loosing sight on his little brother, on the things around him, only the darkness reminded.

He wasn't able to breath anymore. Inhaling as deeply as possible but to no avail. There was no relieve for his burning lungs. The cold he felt let him start to shiver, letting him get numb and burned inside of him at the same time. Weakness washing over him… weakness... _"Weaknesssss must… be punished…"_ it took him a moment to comprehend that he heard the spirits whisper again. Then the cold arrived in his brain. He knew he must have screamed and it was his last coherent thought as the world faded into nothingness…

TBC soon...


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for all the reviews. I'm happy you like it ;)  
This story s a short-story, so I'll be almost finished after this short chapter - BUT (you see the but), if you like this, I do have somehow a second story-line, that starts right after the first chapter.  
And a small surprise at the end of this story ;)

- LATERZ, Lee

* * *

Sam could hear the shuffle of a fight going on behind him, trying to concentrate at the job at hand: getting the bone out of the wall.

They had found out about Sullivan by a merely coincidence. Well, as much as it is a coincidence when driving through Salem. They sat at a diner, listening to the gossip, while having dinner, but one old bone got their attention. He talked about the new owners of the Sullivan house, and the curse, that was said to be laid on it.

People had died in odd accidents, falling from the stairs and strangling themselves, things like that. As Sam scrolled through the internet, that evening he found out more about the house and it's owners. He read about Olivia Sullivan and her trial. For her using dark magic, forging a binding-spell, that would keep her spirit bound to her estate. The perfect hiding-place. The house she haunted. The last words she had uttered before her death, had given the brothers a clue, with what they where dealing. _"My bone's never to caught fire…"_ It was enough for them to look further into it.

At the afternoon they drove by the house, to see an ambulance parked outside, and people gathering in a crowd. He and Dean had parked the car and stood amongst the nosy neighbourhood, learning that there had been an accident. One of the new owners child had fallen down the stairs. They glanced at each other, and decided to come back in the evening to check out the house.

Sam almost screamed in victory as suddenly the bone broke free and he had it in his hands.

The bone itself was covered in Runes as well. He knew this was the actual binding-spell. Binding the spirit of Olivia Sullivan to the world her body had left over a century ago.

A gurgled scream almost let him forget his grip on the bone, and suddenly the time seemed to speed up. He turned to see Dean lying still – to still. The spirit had wrapped itself around him making it impossible to help him, without hurting him further. But the decision of helping Dean was taken from him as the head of the figure turned to Sam, seeing the bone in his hand, it responded immediately. It screamed again in a feral and outraged way, leaving him almost deaf, and he knew he had lost too much time.

The ghost of Olivia Sullivan unwrapped itself from Dean's prone body, screeching again as it lunged for Sam and… he could feel the air of the blast rush past him, as the rock salt hit home and with one final howl the spirit dissipated.

Sam stood frozen to the spot, to shocked to realize what had happened. Then he saw the girl, letting Dean's gun drop, as if it burned her hands. For a second he wanted nothing more, than to check on his brother, but he decided, he would get rid of the bone first.

He went to work and set it afire at the destroyed fire place, watching the bone burn and knowing that with this the binding-spell was banned.

At the small groan behind him, he turned and saw the girl at Deans side, speaking softly, encouraging him to wake up, while her hand stroked through his hair.

His brother was deathly pale, his breathing hitching and coming in small gasps.

Sam hurried to turn and tend on him.

Dean could hear noises, soft words, a hand at his head. Then with a hard coughing-fit he was back and conscious. His throat hurt, his whole body seemed to be on fire, or was it ice? His mind was to confused to know at the moment. He felt an arm guiding him up, helping him to stay in a sitting position, while his back was eased back on someones chest. He rattled in breath after breath, trying his best to get his screaming lungs under control and relaxed against the offered help, knowing it was his brother, who had his back. He could feel Sam's chest rise and fall beneath him, the warmth of his body comforting him, and as he concentrated on this he was able to calm down finally, breathing in the same rhythm as his brother.

He felt awful. His vision swam, and his body shuddered. The cold he had felt, not being only around him but within him, drowning him.

Then, finally he was able to hear. The rushing of the blood in his ears vanishing, his thoughts became clearer.

"… Dean?" he heard Sam speaking. "What?" he croaked, his voice barely audible.

"You okay?" he could hear his brother repeating his question. Another wave of cold let Dean shudder, and he felt Sam tense beneath him.

So he did, what he always did. He pushed away from the comfort of his brother, clenched his teeth, and uttered an: "I'm fine." Moving his limbs to stand.

Sam seemed to have known what happened next, as Dean felt him shift as well, his jell-o-legs didn't seem to work, as he swayed under his weight, and felt himself stumble back to the floor.

Sam was there in time, to catch him.

"Woahh! Easy!" Sam scolded, his voice somewhere near Dean's ear, as he saw his brother's eyes roll back again, fighting for consciousness. "I got you!" he said, as he pulled his brother into a strong embrace, stopping his fall into the darkness.

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

Hi all! Thanks for your interest in my story. And thanks for all reviews...  
This is kinda an epilogue, and because it's so short I gonna start with my second storyline, right after this.

I'm not sure which storyline I like more... so you have to read both ;)  
Hugs, Lee

* * *

The next hours had been blurry for him. He couldn't stay really alert, just once as he heard Sam's frantic plea he succeeded to open his eyes, only to feel them roll back again in his head. He decided, that for once, he would let Sam take care of things, knowing his brother was truly capable to do so, and gave into the urge of sleep.

He didn't know what was there first. The annoying voices, that tried to speak in hushed manners, only succeeding in really starting to go on his nerves or the even more annoying beeping coming in a steady rhythm. Somehow both troubled him. Motel-rooms shouldn't beep, should they?

At that thought, something in his head snapped and he knew that he wasn't at a motel-room. Nor with Sammy… the spirit!! That triggered the much needed energy to let him awake fully and with a jolt he sat up, panting heavily.

Sam was startled by the sudden movement of his brother. He somehow had managed to fall asleep in the hospital chair on his brothers bedside, waiting for him to finally wake up.

He winced as the movement jostled his bruised back, looking at his disheveled, but wide awake older sibling. A broad smile appearing on his face, letting the concern of the last couple of hours disappear.

Dean seemed a little confused for a moment, swaying alarmingly, so Sam was up in a second, grabbing his upper arm and gently forced him to settle back on the pillows.

"Hey, there!" he said, the smile not vanishing, watching as his brother just stared at him.

"Where… what… did… how…?" did Dean managed to utter, his voice scratchy and hoarse.

Sam turned to the side table, getting the glass of water there, helping Dean to drink a few sips.

"Why I'm here?" he croaked, after was settled back for a second time.

"Dude. You just passed out on me, every time I tried to wake you." Sam looked at him, his face serious again.  
"Really. I didn't know what else to do. So I didn't drove back to the motel-room and instead brought you here."

Dean glared at him. "I told you I'm…" he started, but Sam cut him off: "You were anything but okay, Dean!" he felt the sorrow he had to fight down the whole night turn into fury, his voice almost a snarl now.

He saw Dean shrugging and almost gave into the need to strangle him right then, but stopped as Dean smiled daffy at him and retorted: "But I'm okay now…" ending the sentence with a huge yawn.

He shook his head. "You're unbelievable!" Sam replied, his voice softer and starting to smile, as his brothers eyes drooped.

"Rest…" Sam whispered. "I'm going to get you out of here first thing in the morning, okay." He added, continuing his vigil.

* * *

FIN... of this story line

Hope you liked it!!


	5. Chapter 2,2

Hi!  
So, this was the other idea, running through my head. The first chapter is standing like it is, and at the beginning of this chapter, there is also stuff that I didn't need to turn, as the story has a very, very obvious "turning-point".

If you come there, you'll know it at the very moment ;)

Lee

* * *

Dean felt the hair on his neck rise, and before he could cry out a warning, he saw his brother flew across the room, hitting the wall hard and getting down with a little "wush" leaving his lips, as all the air left his lungs.

Dean didn't have time to help, as he saw the spirit of the poltergeist manifest above the bed of the girl. He knew he couldn't get her out of the line of fire, but knew he had to get rid of the bitch before worse could happen.

He heard it hiss something unintelligible, aimed and shot. The ghost dissipated with a screech and Dean put the gun into the waistband of his jeans, covered the four steps between the door and the bed. He saw the girl trying to stay alert, hoping, he hadn't hurt her with the rock salt, bent down and gently got his hands under the girls body, leaving her wrapped up in the blanket, he lifted her easily. He saw her eyes roll back and muttered softly:

"Let's get you outta here."

Meanwhile Sam had gotten his feet under him and was standing, breathing heavily.

He saw his brother carrying the girl towards the door. "You okay?" Dean asked slightly panting. "Yeah, just sore. She okay?" he nodded towards the girl in Dean's arms. His brother shrugged: "Will be. If we get her outta here." Sam nodded. "Let's do this!" He grabbed at his gun hidden by the waistband of his jeans and his jacket, flicking off the safety in one fluid motion.

_She could see the men leave with the girl, but knew they would never leave the house. She would hinder them to succeed. And then she would separate them and they would be punished all for their weakness._

A cold cackle let Sam and Dean freeze to their spot. They were at the living room now, not any longer at the second floor. Sam scanned the room but couldn't see anything. He held up his hand, telling his brother to stay there and left the room, swiftly but cautiously striding down the hall. As he arrived at the front-door, he already knew their predicament. "Lock down!" He simply stated, frustration evident in his voice. Silently and fast he moved away from the door and back into the living-room.

It took Dean one glance at Sam and he knew, there wasn't good news to come.

"You know Dean. I hate it when things get that out of control."

He waited, as Dean bent down and let the girl rest on the sofa, pulling his own gun again.

"Yeah, pretty much the same over here, Sammy." He himself scanned the room, stopping short on the huge open fireplace on the far wall. He moved over there scrutinizing it intently.

That's when everything seemed to come alive.

Suddenly books and pictures, vases and furniture started to move, trying to hit them, to confuse them. The door opened and closed again, and wind started to blow through the house. They could hear by the crashes that followed that it was not only happening in the living-room.

Dean tried to see through the movement and make out his brother. He could see Sam back away from the things thrown at him, moving ever so slightly toward the living-room door and dread filled him suddenly.

He raised his voice over the noise: "Stay in the room, Sammy! It's trying to separate us! Get to the girl!" he yelled, hoping his brother would hear him. Then something hard hit him from behind, letting him topple over. He fell on hands and knees, his gun knocked from him with force, as something attached itself on his back and he writhed in utter agony, as icy cold fingers wrapped around his torso, pressing the air out of his lungs. He fell to his side, still not able to breath, gasping for the much needed air, and heard a voice cold and glass-like: _"Weaknesss….. must be punished….."_ The face of the ghost appearing right in front of him.

His hand groping around, finally getting hold of the iron fire-poker, not losing any more time he used every ounce of strength left and brought down the poker in the face of the ghost. It dissipated with a deafening scream, leaving him on the floor fighting for consciousness.

The silence that followed this second attack was intense. Dean choked in breath after breath, trying to get his breathing under control, feeling the blood rush through his veins. He shivered violently while waiting for the world to stop spinning around him.

As it finally did stop, and he had found his bearings he realized that something was just not right.

"Sam?" he croaked, cringing at his hoarse voice. "Sam?!" this time his voice sounded steadier. Still Sam didn't answer. Dread filled him, as he struggled to get into a sitting position, he could see that except of him and the girl no one was around. More important, no SAM was around. "SAM!" Dean staggered to his feet feeling incredible tired, but rising nonetheless. He saw the girl lying on the couch, face white as a sheet, shudders running through her lean frame uncontrollably. He raised shaking hands and tussled his hair, rubbed over his face in the progress, wincing as his palm made contact with his bruised throat and windpipe.

"SAM! Answer me, man!" With a few steps he was at the door the ghost had directed Sam through. "Sammy?!" His voice was now full of concern. He tried the door's handle, but knew the movement was futile. He froze as he heard a soft groan from the other side.

"Sam? Sammy!" his attempt to open the door grew frantic.

"Sam? Come on, answer!" the only sound from the other side was another moan, that could have gone through as somewhat like his name.

"Sam, listen. I gonna get rid of the bitch. Just stay low, and don't let her get you. You heard me?" his voice was urgent and all business now, as his eyes set with a dark glow.

This fugly bitch had hurt his brother.

He turned back to the fireplace, knowing that somewhere hidden behind the Runes engraved into the frame he had found earlier, there would be what they searched for. Olivia Sullivan's bone. They had gotten the lead for their new hunt from some old crony at a diner in Salem. He gossiped about the Sullivan's house new owners. Talking about how the residents of said house often seemed to draw on misfortune. Odd accidents seemed to happen, people dying by falling down the stairs, strangling themselves, things like that. It had gotten their attention, and after Sam had searched the internet about the history of the house, they had been sure something was going on in ol' Sullivan's house. Sam had told him about Olivia and her trial. About what her last words had been, before she died a witches death. _"My bone's never to caugh fire"_. Sam further found out, that she was into the dark arts, and this words had been the final incantation for a binding-spell.

He bent at their duffel, looking for the much needed tool, knowing he had to hurry. If the bitch would sense what he was about to do, Sam wouldn't have as much trouble as him.

His glance haltered again on the girl on the couch. Sighing, he crouched down and pulled her into a sitting position.

"Hey, this is going to be over pretty soon. Don't worry. I need you to stay close. We need to watch out for the bitch together, can you help me with that?" he asked, his voice soft but decisive.

He almost lost his patience, but finally she nodded. He gave her his best encouraging grin, grabbing her arms and pulling her to her feet.

Together they walked over to the fireplace.

"Just watch out for this spirit, okay? You don't have to do anything. Just… call me and… I'll deal with it." He winced at his lame words, but not having time to bother anymore. The lights started to flicker at the same moment, as he raised his hand with the sledgehammer for the first time. A deafening scream echoed through the house. It was followed by an outraged one, as the sledgehammer connected a second time with the frame of the fireplace, destroying a big area with embedded Runes. The third smash of the sledgehammer, seemed to shook the whole house, and leaving them in almost complete darkness, as the lights flickered one last time and then went out completely.

Dean cursed, clapping at his leather-jacked to find his flashlight. Only seconds later the darkness was banished, letting the shadows starting a wild dance, and Dean struck out one last time. A huge part of the frame caved in, revealing what Dean had searched for. He almost shouted out his victory. That's when all hell broke loose…

Sam fought off books, vases, pottery, more books and a chair too. Then he was through the door, and lost his footing, as the power of the ghost again smashed him into the far wall. All air left his lungs and a hot white pain shot through his whole body, starting at the back of his head. He fought off the fatigue, and the stars and dots dancing through his vision. He groaned loudly, getting on his hands and knees, moving to get his feet under him. He was about to straighten up as he saw something huge coming into his line of vision. He flinched and ducked, but it was too late: the table struck him right above his right ear, leaving him thinking it had ripped off said limb. He felt numb, thinking it oddly he couldn't feel any pain, almost smiling and wondering why he was still conscious. Then the pain struck, hot and angry, and with the pain setting in, his consciousness faded.

TBC soon...


	6. Chapter 2,3

Hey all!  
Thanks for your reviews again, and Sammygirl - I knew it lol  
Time for Dean to save the day??

There's just a epilogue left after this part - thanks for reading again.

Lee

* * *

Dean heard the girl scream, as she was thrown into the nearby wall.

Then, something connected hard just above his hip, let him cry out in pain, his right leg going numb immediately, and buckled. But Dean wasn't about to go down. He grabbed at the bone trying to pry it off it's hiding place. Again he felt white and stabbing pain, as the iron poker connected again, this time hitting his back, bruising his kidneys and spine. With a hard yank the bone was free and he held it in his hand, tumbling down to the floor with his prize, wheezing against the pain in his leg and back. The spirit's screaming turned into something feral and it struck out again with the iron poker, aiming for his head. He protected himself with his raised forearm. The poker connecting with it, instead smashing his head, and this time he screamed for real. He could have sworn he heard the bone cracking. His vision swam and he felt his head hitting the floor, confused how he had gotten there. Something in the corner of his field of view got his attention but before he could see it properly, he felt something rush past him, feeling a slight breeze around him, the screech of the creature was not more then a mere whisper, and he stared at it's dissipating form in wonderment. Then he felt the pain, as something bit into his skin, letting him bawl and his vision grew dark.

* * *

The first thing he felt was hurt. It seemed everything was on fire, and he mentally checked himself over, asking the quiet question where all this hurt came from.

The second thing he was aware of, was silence, and then all the memories rushed back at him and he knew what had happened. He didn't open his eyes, just laid there, on his side trying to breath through the pain in his arm, his back, his hip and leg, eventually knowing that he couldn't rest for much longer. He groaned and flopped on his back, almost choking as with the movement the pain became incredible, his back screaming as it connected with the floor, then coursing through his hip and in his leg. He laid there, swallowing hard, almost hiccuping because of the intenseness of pain.

He couldn't have been unconscious for long – that's what he hoped for at least. His try to get into a sitting position proved to be impossible, as his left arm was no use right now, so he had to turn back on his one good hand and his knees crawling toward the duffel to get the lighter-fluid and salt. Half way through, he had to stop for a second, willing down the urge to puke and blinking back the dark spots that made his vision hazy.

He knew it couldn't be long before the spirit would have regained enough strength to come back, and if he hadn't burned the bone till then, he wouldn't have another chance. That was for sure.

He grit his teeth against the pain now flowing constantly through him as he made his way back to the fire-place.

The moment he placed the bone in the ashtray of the fireplace time ran out on him again, as with a shallow howl the lights started to flicker. Dean didn't waste time to look for the ghost, just adding salt an lighter-fluid searching for his matches. As he struck one of the matches he could feel the fine hairs at his back rising, he let it drop, as cold and dead hands grabbed him, wrestled him down and he could feel the iron-poker pressed down hard on his throat, starting to strangle him.  
Dean would have laughed at the irony, if he had found enough air to choke it out.

He wasn't a man of prayers, but suddenly he prayed for the bone and the accelerator to caugh fire, to burn the bone, to let him triumph once again over evil… him and Sammy... the world started to fade once more…

66666666

He didn't remember closing his eyes but he gasped in a deep breath, suddenly being free to breath again, smelling smoke, and as he raised his head, he saw the bone burning. Relieve filled him and he let his head drop back against the floor, closing his eyes and letting the darkness that had waited for him take him.

He didn't know where he was at first, trying to remember what city and which motel they were at. But something about that smell didn't fit. And something about the soft voices waver over to him. He felt odd, a little lightheaded, but not too bad, considering… yeah, considering what?

Something brushed his arm, and with this soft touch his consciousness came back forcefully. He gasped, as he remembered the Dermont's house. The hunt! The ghost… he getting tossed through the air like a rag-doll, connecting with the wall, the door to his brother… Dean!

His eyes flew up, and he jerked, trying to sit up.

But with his first movement the pain came. Angry, pulsating pain, that seemed to split his skull into two. He whimpered, falling back against the pillow.

And then there were gentle hands and someones voice, trying to coax him back into the conscious world. He fought and opened his eyes, blinking several times to try to get the face above him into focus.

His gaze settling on deep-green eyes, that almost sparkled in relieve. "Dee…" his voice was scratchy and hoarse, but that sparkle he had seen in his brothers eyes even grew more intense.

"Welcome back to the here and now, little brother." Dean said, trying to sound nonchalantly, but his eyes betrayed him. Sam scrunched his nose as he tried to clear his throat, but before he could ask for some water, he felt his brothers hand at his neck, lifting his head up a little, holding a glass of water in his other hand.

Sam took a few sips, then nodded his thanks and let Dean guide his head back on the pillow.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice now working. He followed his brothers movement and winced as he saw him limping heavily.

"Really tough bitch." Dean replied, sitting carefully back on the hospital chair, avoiding the backrest.

Sam watched him warily. Dean looked like crap. He had dark circles under his eyes, little scrapes covering all skin he could see, and dark bruising around his throat, vanishing on the collar of his shirt. Sam hadn't noticed it before, but his left arm was cradled near his body, the shirt being cut just above the elbow, white bandages hiding deep purple and blackened bruises.

"You okay?" Sam asked, knowing already the answer.

"Yeah, sure. I'm not the one lying in a hospital bed, remember?" his brother replied sarcastically.

Sam succeeded to suppress rolling his eyes at this statement. "How have I gotten there?" he asked, changing the subject.

Dean's demeanour sobered. "Dude, I couldn't wake you. I swear…" he stopped, mopping through his hair with his good hand, tussling it in the process, so he looked even younger. "I swear I almost lost ten years of my life last night." He looked dire exhausted now.

"Dean…" Sam started, earning an irate gaze, Dean stopped him: "Don't you dare to say sorry. I swear Sammy…"

Sam started smiling: "What? You gonna beat up your little brother, lying wounded in a hospital bed?" Dean looked at him for a moment almost as if really considering this now.

Then Sam yawned, and as he opened his eyes again, Dean was bending forward, watching him intently.

"It's good to see you awake, Sammy. You going to rest now. I got it all covered, okay?"

* * *

The next time Sam opened his eyes, his first thought was, he was alone in the room, but then feeling the warm breath tickling the skin of his arm, and as he bent his head slightly, he saw Dean slumbering, still seated in the hospital chair, slumped over, his head resting on his good arm, his hurt arm still cradled in his lap.

He felt completely at peace that moment and a bright and genuine smile washed over his feature, gently he reached over, stroking through Deans hair, grinning as Dean didn't as much as stir, totally obvious to the world. "I got you, too bro, I got you too…" he whispered, closing his eyes, letting sleep claim him again.

TBC... for the end


	7. Epilogue

So, this is how it all ends. And I learned while posting here not to use stars to make breaks between places or times during a chapter. So, sorry if this was sometimes a little difficult to get. But I learned ;)

Here the epilogue...

* * *

_Couple of days later..._

"So, evil is really out there, huh?" Sam and Dean sat opposite Claire, nodding quietly. They had met up with her at the airport café, to keep her company, while she waited for her plane back home.

"Little Billy is on his way to mend." She told them, both smiling, that the little boy was going to be alright.

"You should have been there… I never thought that the Dermont's are such a pack of… you know?" she smiled sadly then sighed. "Well, on the other side, I don't know how I would have reacted, coming home, seeing this mess and the police… and after what had happened, I really couldn't blame them."

Sam and Dean changed an understanding glance. "So, you're going back home then?" Sam asked, clearing his throat. Claire's eyes became sparkling. "Yes. Yes, I'm going to finish my studies back home. It's okay, even if I liked it here pretty much…" she said her eyes wandering off on memory lane. Then she shook herself out of it, giving the brother's a genuine smile: "But I think the two of you just gave my abroad-experience the touch of adventure I hoped it would have." Her smile was now radiating. "Even if…" she touched the bruises covering the skin of her throat tenderly.

All three started to rise, as her flight number and gate was being announced through the speakers.

"Well, then this is goodbye?" she asked, looking at both of them. "Thanks so much for what you've done. I'll never forget."

Dean grinned: "Well, we're experts in screwing up. But you're welcome!" he quipped, as he hugged Claire for farewell.

As he stepped back, he gave Sam a small nudge, earning him an annoyed growl.  
Claire looked at him, smiling that sparkling smile, her eyes shiny and grateful.

He felt suddenly warm and shy, but repressed the feeling, knowing Dean would have enough teasing-material, with him blushing. He could almost feel Dean's smirk on the back of his head.

Claire rescued him, as she stepped up, slightly on her toes, and embraced him, giving him a soft kiss on his cheek.  
He hugged her back, smelling her shampoo and smiled.

"Thank you, too!" she whispered silently.

Sam nodded. "You're welcome… and sorry for me tackling you!" he added grinning sheepishly and hearing Dean snort behind him…

FIN


End file.
